


Found my Glory-Sigrit's Story

by SendmetoMars



Category: Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga (2020)
Genre: Badass Sigrit, Bisexual Mita Xenakis, Character Bashing, Dan Stevens is a treasure, F/F, Flirty Mita, Gay Alexander Lemtov, Human Disaster Alexander Lemtov, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I have a lot of thoughts, I'm a Biased Bitch, M/M, Mita/Sigrit is probably one sided, Sigrit finally gets over Lars, but I promise it's good, but this isn't a sad story, but you never know, he blushes much more than he wants to admit, if that isn't obvious, is perfectly capable of finding his own lovers, lars is the real villain here, let's give this girl some character development, the beginning is kinda despressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25461583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SendmetoMars/pseuds/SendmetoMars
Summary: The Eurovision semifinal was a disaster. But it opens Sigrit's eyes to the true source of all of her shortcomings. All along, it has been Lars who was holding her back. So when he tells her he's leaving, she tells him not to come back. This is the story of how Sigrit Ericksdottir, with the help of a dazzling Russian and a lovely Grecian, rises to stardom. She may even have a shot at winning the first ever Eurovision contest for Iceland. And who is Alexander Lemtov, and what does his story have to do with all this?
Relationships: Alexander Lemtov & Mita Xenakis, Alexander Lemtov/Kevin Swain, Sigrit Ericksdóttir&Alexander Lemtov, Sigrit Ericksdóttir/Mita Xenakis
Comments: 15
Kudos: 56





	1. The Perfect Mix of Self-Hatred and Casual Flirting

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I wrote this story because I felt like this movie had a lot of potential, but I really didn't like how the story progressed. I found myself unable to root for Lars at all, and that came out in this. I really wanted the movie to focus on Sigrit, and what happened after Lars left her (this time for good). So this is pretty much my rewrite of what I wanted to happen at the end.

It was all a mess. The contest. The band. Her dress. 

“I’ve ruined everything,” Sigrit whispered under her breath, her voice catching as a fresh wave of tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. It was all her fault. Her scarf had ruined it for both of them. He hadn’t even had to say anything. The look in Lars’ eyes as they left the stage made everything perfectly clear. He blamed her too.

“Shut up,” she sobbed louder, glancing up sharply, checking that Lars didn’t hear her going insane. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t. Everything that went wrong, that was Lars’ fault. The Wings Incident, back in Iceland, that was all his fault. He was late. That horrible dress he forced her to wear, constantly rejecting her advances, then sleeping with Mita. And now this.

“I don’t deserve this,” she said, louder than she expected. Lars turned to face her, his face beginning to sour. There was no going back now. And she didn’t want to.

“What do you mean?” he said. The words were a test. A threat. As if he was daring her to say what was on the tip of her tongue.

“I don’t deserve to have you sabotaging my life at every turn. I don’t deserve to be used by you. You treat me like just another pawn in your own self serving game, and I don’t want to be yours anymore.”

“Sigrit, what are you saying?” he snarled, grabbing the sleeve of her dress. The fabric ripped dreadfully as she reclaimed her arm.

“Those people in there,” she said, pointing to the jeering stadium behind her, “they hated us. They hated you. You ruined this for us.”

He had the audacity to look hurt.

Then he grabbed her arm, pulling her towards the exit. “Wait, where are we going?” she protested, resisting his grip.

“Home. We’re going home to Husavik.”

“What?”

“Let’s go!” he demanded.

“No, no. We have to go back in there.”

“Why?”

“Because all of Iceland is watching,” she insisted. “Our family, our friends, my students. We cannot let them down.”

“What do you mean?” Lars said, turning on her. “We already did. We are a joke. I’m not going back in there where everyone is going to keep laughing at me.”

“Well I am,” Sigrit said, meeting his intense gaze with her own determined stare. “I am going into that artists’ area because I am an artist. And when I see that no votes come in for   
us, I’m going to sit there and I’m going to take it because I know that I am more than this contest.”

“You’re being very selfish right now.”

“I’m being selfish?” she asked incredulously.

“You are. You know that all I’ve ever wanted is to win.”

“I can’t do this anymore,” she sighed. “I’m going back in there. And you’re going home. Don't bother to come back.”

“Fine! Walk away,” he screamed at her retreating back. “Go to Lemtov! You never deserved to win this contest anyway.”

She didn’t dare turn around, for fear that she would once again fall under his spell. You can do better, she thought to herself. He doesn’t deserve you. So she walked away from Lars for the last time.

The whole stadium held its breath when she entered, head held high. This was her moment. If she was going to fail, she was going to fail on the world stage, where she belonged. Her breath nearly caught as Alexander Lemtov slid carefully into the seat beside her. He was the reason she was here alone, waiting patiently for her own demise.

She couldn’t thank him enough.

“I love you for this,” she whispered into his ear, settling into his side. He bristled, whether at her words or her touch, she didn’t know. 

“Sigrit, I-” he stuttered uncharacteristically, his face almost dark enough to call it a blush. Although he would never admit it. Alexander Lemtov never gets flustered. It’s physically impossible, he would say.

“Don’t worry about it,” she reassured him, a sudden insight striking her as to what could be bothering him. She leaned into his ear. “You’re the best friend I have here, and I want you to know that I’m grateful for all the support you’ve given me. Nothing else.”

The look he gave her flashed with startled fear. He knew that she had guessed at his deepest secret. His eyes burned with a fire more intense than she had ever seen before. It was as if he was trying to burn a path into her head, and sear away those dreaded thoughts. She saw the dread in his eyes; she had never been able to read him so easily. It scared her, how much power she suddenly had over him.

“I promise,” she whispered, as the cameras turned onto them. He didn’t have to ask what that promise meant. He knew.

Lights and smiles flashed all around them. Somewhere, somehow, Sigrit found the strength to hold her head high and smile out at the crowd of people that, only moments ago, had laughed her off the stage. Alexander slung an arm over her shoulder and pulled her closer. She smiled even wider. No matter what happened now, she would be okay.

And then the results came in.

At first she was shocked. Who could have possibly voted for her worst failure yet? No, she reminded herself, that wasn’t your fault. You deserve every vote you get.

“You’re going to the final,” Alexander whispered in her ear as they waited for the last place to be announced. 

“You don’t know that,” she whispered back, not wanting to get her hopes up.

“But I do,” he said, and winked. Who was this mysterious man she had gotten herself mixed up with?

He was right, in the end. She didn’t know how. Nobody could’ve seen that coming. Not her, not Lars. Definitely not the Icelandic committee. Not even the announcers seemed to believe it. But somehow, against all odds, Alexander was right. She was through to the final!

That meant she had to work. The duet, now a solo, had already been a testament to her skill. And she would need every scrap of skill she had, and maybe a bit more, in order to pull this one last act off.

“Baby you’re doing amazing,” Alexander purred from his place on the bed, where he lay lounging like a king.

“I keep forgetting the words,” she said, wringing her hands as she paced around the end of his bedroom. It was a massive room, and she seemed to be determined to cover every square foot of it. “Is it screaming or dreaming? Or maybe scheming?”

“It’s dreaming, love,” Alexander said, patting a spot on the bed next to him. She allowed herself to sit, finally stopping her feet from instinctively roaming the bedroom. 

“You need to trust yourself,” he spoke after a moment of silence. “The words are in here,” he touched her forehead. “But you must find them with this,” another light touch, to the center of her chest.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she sighed, flopping down beside him. “Maybe I should ask Lars to come back.”

“Nonsense,” Alexander huffed, sitting up to face her. “You are strong, and your voice is beautiful. Now stand up and practice again.”

She was tempted to argue, but instead she placed her feet firmly on the floor, where they were once again tempted to begin their wandering. She forced them to still.

“Don’t think about Lars. Or me. Or anyone. Feel the music with your soul,” Alexander commanded. “Now sing.”

Music played, and without thinking, she sang. The first part came easily, it was hers. Had been since the very beginning. But then, so was the next part. Maybe it hadn’t been her voice, or her body onstage singing it, but it was her heart. The blood, sweat and tears she had poured into this song made it 100%, without a doubt, all hers. And she owned it.

A heavy silence hung in the room, the music long over. Neither one wanting to speak first. 

Alexander broke the silence, “my dear, if you sing like that tomorrow, then I will worry for my chance of victory.”

“I must say, I am glad to see you smile,” a voice rang out from the doorway. Mita swept into the room, planting a kiss on both occupants’ cheeks before settling onto the bed next to Alexander. “Without that fool bringing you down, Iceland has a real chance of victory. I should be worried.”

“Mita darling, can’t you see that the lovely Sigrit is practicing?” Alexander admonished his friend playfully.

“My dear Alexander,” she replied in turn, “can’t you see that ‘the lovely Sigrit’ is becoming a threat? I need to be aware of my competition.”

“Can I help you, Mita?” Sigrit asked carefully, weighing the intentions of the other woman.

“I’m sure you could, much better than this hunk of flesh, at least, “ she winked, causing both Sigrit and Alexander to turn a lovely shade of pink. “I came to invite you both to my party tonight. Alexander knows where.”

She swept out of the room as gracefully as she entered, leaving only a pat on Alexander’s head and a kiss on Sigrit’s cheek. A wink, and she was gone.

“Pay no attention,” Alexander said, once the door was long closed. “Mita is a lovely woman, but she can be very forward sometimes.”

“You trust her,” Sigrit said, watching her companion’s face closely.

“Yes,” he admitted freely. “As I trust you.”

Once again, the moment hung in the air between them. The comfortable silence was a refreshing change from the tense silences Sigrit was always drawn into whenever she was with Lars.

“Thank you for your help,” she spoke suddenly, the desire to show her appreciation for his kindness overwhelming her desire for the peaceful silence.

“It was a pleasure,” he smiled, grasping her hand and placing a kiss on her knuckles. “But now you must leave me to prepare for our evening of glamour.”

“What should I wear?”

“Something beautiful.”


	2. An Imperfect Blend of Gay Panic and Threesomes

Alexander was glowing. 

He hadn’t stopped smiling since that afternoon, when Mita had interrupted their little rehearsal session with news of a party later that evening. But now, standing outside her door, dressed like a king, hair styled to perfection, Sigrit could swear he was actually emitting light.

“Someone’s happy tonight,” she smiled, matching the one she received from across the doorway. She hadn’t seen Alexander smile like this since the night of his party. The day she first met him.

“You would be too, if you knew where we were going.”

“Are you going to tell me?”

“No,” he smirked. Sigrit rolled her eyes.

“Very well.” He offered his arm to her, which she accepted gratefully, and led her out of the room.

“You look beautiful,” he said to her as the elevator door closed in front of them. “I am certain all the men will be looking at you tonight.”

“I disagree,” she responded, a grin spreading across her face. He looked at her curiously. “Because they will all be looking at you.”

He turned away quickly, but Sigrit knew she saw a trace of pink brush across his cheeks. “I see you are getting into the spirit of the night,” he said, stubbornly refusing to meet her probing gaze.

“You’re going to have to look at me eventually,” she laughed, dragging him out of the elevator as the door opened.

“Perhaps I will, when you stop saying such flattering and untrue things.”

“Accuse me of lying one more time and I won’t speak to you for the rest of the night,” she threatened, finally convincing Alexander to turn around. “Do you need my help getting laid tonight or are you capable of that yourself?”

“I am capable of finding my own lovers, thank you,” he attempted to retort, but the sarcasm was undermined by the deepened blush that coloured his cheeks. Sigrit grinned wildly.

“I hate you,” he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes.

“I heard that. C’mon,” Sigrit said, tugging on his arm, “let’s get to that party. You’re not going to find anybody in this old lobby.”

However, as she spoke, a passing waiter gave a discreet wink in the couple’s direction. It was, without a doubt aimed at Alexander. “Maybe I spoke too soon,” she laughed, nudging her friend.

“Dear god, let’s get out of here,” Alexander muttered, all but dragging his friend towards the exit.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” Sigrit asked lightly, letting Alexander drag her out into the warm night air. He pulled her along the sidewalk at such a fast pace, that she nearly stumbled and fell at least three times. “Seriously, what’s the rush? We aren’t late.”

“You embarrass me,” he muttered, but his face had lost the bright smile he had been flashing earlier. It was more than just embarrassment. He was… afraid?

“Oh.” Sigrit stopped suddenly. “Oh shit. Alexander, I didn’t- I wouldn’t-”

“I am not mad,” Alexander sighed. “You want me to be happy. But you forget that my country does not.”

“Alexander, I’m so sorry. But we aren’t in Russia. You can be yourself here.”

He resumed their previous activity of walking, albeit at a slower pace to allow her to keep up. “There are thousands of Russians in this city,” he shrugged casually, but glanced over his shoulder. Nobody was there. “They come to support me, but they do not really support me.”

“I understand, but-”

“Let us not talk of this,” Alexander said, directing Sigrit into a dimly lit building. The sign above the door read ‘Hawking Legal’. “It is time to party.”

“Are you sure this is the right place?”

“My dear, do you lose trust in me?” the words could’ve hurt, but the smile Alexander gave her cured all of Sigrit’s wounds. And did a whole lot to relieve her guilt over the earlier incident. The Alexander she knew was back and ready to party.

The bookcase against the wall swung open, and Sigrit almost laughed. She should’ve expected something like this. She took Alexander’s arm once again as he led her down the staircase, into the wild party she could hear below. She looked around in awe at the scene spread out below her. In the corner, a DJ was blasting some kind of modern British music that Sigrit hadn’t heard before. Across the room, a colourfully dressed bartender was handing out equally colourful drinks.

But what really caught her eye was the dancefloor. Boys danced with girls. Girls danced with boys. Boys danced with boys. Girls danced with girls. And Mita danced with everybody.

“What is this place?” Sigrit asked, looking at Alexander carefully. Surely here he could finally be himself. And by the look on his face, he seemed to agree with her.

“It is club owned by Mita’s family. Entrance by invite only.”

“So… what now? I’ve never been to a club before,” Sigrit admitted, looking out at the sea of bodies apprehensively.

“I will sleep my way through the crowd,” Alexander laughed, “and you should go find Mita. She wants to speak with you.”

The “or more,” was implied. Sigrit nodded, and left Alexander to his own self-proclaimed mission, which she had to assume was a hyperbole. Not even Alexander could do all that in one night. Though if anyone could, it would be him.

Sigrit spotted Mita’s dark hair through the crowd, and began to push her way over. Miraculously, she made it across the dancefloor without even being groped once. Although she did have to apologize to a woman in a bright red top for a rather inappropriate hand placement. It was an accident. Probably.

Finally standing in front of Mita, Sigrit was feeling much more confident. She also felt a bit tipsy, even though she hadn’t even had the chance to find one of those colourful drinks yet. It was a good feeling. And so was the smile Mita gave her.

“Good evening, love,” Mita whispered into Sigrit’s ear, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You look absolutely ravishing.”

“Alexander told me the men wouldn’t be able to keep their eyes off me,” Sigrit said, grinning at the woman in front of her. “He forgot to warn me about you.”

“How careless of him,” Mita laughed. “He knows better than that. I will have to speak to him about this.”

“He actually said you wanted to speak with me?” Sigrit redirected the conversation, feeling like she was missing out on some inside joke.

“Ah yes, I have an offer for you,” Mita said, leaning in closer to put a hand around Sigrit’s waist. “If you are interested, of course.”

“An- an offer?” Sigrit asked, becoming fully aware of Mita’s strong advances. She squirmed, trying to subtly escape Mita’s grip “What kind of offer?”

“Oh, nothing like that,” she said, retracting her arm. “Unless?” 

She shook her head, as if in answer to herself. Sigrit watched this one woman conversation unfold, as Mita debated internally whether or not to ask Sigrit to sleep with her. Sigrit hoped she wouldn’t ask, because she didn’t know how she would respond. She might say yes. But then, she had only ever thought about boys that way. But then, Mita was a very attractive woman…

“The offer!” Sigrit blurted out, interrupting both women’s internal debates.

“Yes, the offer!” Mita said, with such a tone that anyone who didn’t know her better might accuse her of being flustered. “As you know, Alexander and I are the top contenders to win the contest this year.”

Sigrit nodded. “Well, with that idiot gone, we think that you could even be a close third,” Mita smirked, ever humble.

Sensing that this could be advantageous for her, Sigrit decided to make a move, sliding an arm around Mita’s waist. “What are you proposing?”she whispered into her ear. Oh, she was bold tonight.

“You, me, Alexander. We should be a threesome.”

“With Alexander?” Sigrit scoffed. She loved the man, but somehow, she didn’t think either of them would enjoy that.

“What? He is very good,” Mita stated. Sigrit raised her eyebrow incredulously. Mita and Alexander?

“Oh shit, I forgot the meaning of that word in English,” Mita blushed, finally understanding the various looks of disbelief Sigrit was giving her. “I mean trio. We should be a singing trio. After the contest is over.” 

“Oh. Oh! Yes, I would like that!”

“Wonderful news love,” Mita gave her another peck on the cheek. “Now let’s go find that silly man before he breaks some poor boy’s heart.”

They found Alexander leaning up against the bar, somehow managing to hold three drinks at the same time. He looked much the same as before, with one glaring difference. The giant pink lipstick stain on his right cheek.

“That’s a bit much, isn’t it?” Sigrit asked. He rolled his eyes and handed each of them a glass. They accepted gratefully, and sat down in the seats beside him.

“What happened there?” Mita asked, pointing at his cheek.

Alexander sighed dramatically. “She got me. Before I could escape to the bathroom. Where Kevin and I had a lovely time, in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t, but I’m glad you’ve had a good time.”

“Sigrit agreed to join our threesome,” Mita announced proudly. Alexander nearly spit out his drink. Instead he choked on it, which was objectively worse.

Sigrit elbowed Mita sharply in the side. “You must stop saying that. You nearly killed Alexander.”

“I will live, despite Ms Xenakis’ best efforts,” Alexander sighed, carefully taking another sip of his drink. “I am glad you have decided to join our group, if that is what she means.”

“It is, and I’m grateful for the offer.”

“It is nothing, my dear” Alexander shrugged, blowing her a kiss. “Mita was worried she would not have excuse to see you after the competition. It is the best solution.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Mita suggested. “My bed is big enough for three.”

“You will be the death of me,” Alexander groaned, linking arms with Sigrit. Possibly in self-defense.

“I would be honoured,” Mita smiled, linking onto Alexander’s other arm. Together, the three of them left the party.

And spent the night in individual beds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this got very gay very quickly. I don't know what you were expecting. Now, just like Eurovision, the winner of the contest may be determined by the popular vote. Leave a comment to vote for the winner in this fic. Or to leave a glowing review. Or just to complain about the over-extended threesome joke. Either way, I hope you enjoyed. The next chapter should be up in a day or two. :)


	3. It's Too Early for Emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little pre-show anxiety is all. And Alexander decides to make things more interesting, as usual.

“I’m dropping out,” Sigrit said, standing outside Alexander Lemtov’s door. It was four in the morning, but only one of them seemed to be aware of that fact. And he wasn’t happy about it.

“No you are not,” Alexander sighed, but stepped aside to allow her into his room. She threw herself down on the bed, curling up in the soft blankets.

“I can’t do this without Lars. I should just go home, give up now.”

“You are being stupid,” Alexander insisted, sitting down on the bed next to her. He moved to gently pat her head, then reconsidered. Instead, he rested a hand on her back. And resisted the urge to yawn. It was too early for this.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “How could I tell him to leave?” Alexander needed to move quickly, or soon he would have a sobbing woman in his bed. And he just, didn’t know how to deal with that.

“Umm, this is not your fault.” Reassurance works right? But no. She looked at him with the beginnings of teardrops in her eyes. Shit.

Compliments work right? “Do not worry, you are very beautiful and very strong.” No, that was not the right thing to say. Her breath hitched. Alexander glanced to the side of the room, as if Mita would appear and tell him what to do. She would know. But there wasn’t time for that now. Okay, just stick to the facts.

“Lars chose to leave,” he reminded her, gently patting her back. Not perfect, but better. “And you know that you are capable. You did it just yesterday. Remember?”

“But it’s his band,” she said. “I can’t just kick him out.”

“The band belongs to who stays the longest,” Alexander shrugged. “Like this band Americans like, Panic! At The Disco.”

“Who?” Sigrit looked at him in confusion. Well, confused is better than in tears.

“Doesn't matter. I mean to say, Fira Saga is your band now.” She seemed to accept that logic.

“I haven’t rehearsed on my own,” she fretted, but her body was much more relaxed. All the tension had faded away. “What if I step on a dancer? What if a dancer steps on me?”

“We will practice with dancers when they are awake,” Alexander yawned, content that Sigrit wasn’t about to burst into tears. “Please sleep now.”

Sigrit nodded, then rolled over and fell asleep almost instantly. This was good. But there was one large problem, Alexander realized. This was his room, and his bed.

He now had two options. Sleep in the bed next to Sigrit, or sleep on the floor. Both options would get him laughed at by Mita, when she inevitably stormed into his room to wake him up. But at least on the floor, she could not try to imply that something happened. Not that it ever would.

So with a sigh, and some muttered cursing of his best friend, Alexander grabbed a pillow from the bed and a blanket from the closet and set about finding the comfiest piece of floor upon which to spend the night. He would think of a way to get revenge against both women in the morning.

***

Alexander is a smart man. So it was not a surprise to him when he was shaken awake by a highly amused woman with far too much energy.

“My dear Alexander, are you ill?” she laughed. “You seem to have fallen from your bed!”

Alexander groaned, ignoring her. “My dear Mita, would you please wake Sigrit?”

She gave him a look, but didn’t say anything. Alexander counted that as a victory. “What happened here?” she asked in a non-judgemental tone.

Alexander relayed the events of their four am encounter. He may have overly praised his calming abilities, but as the one who had been woken up at an ungodly hour, that was his right.

“You must convince her to stay,” Mita insisted softly, looking down at Sigrit’s sleeping face.

“For purely selfish reasons, I assume,” Alexander laughed quietly at his friend's unabashed attraction, which she still wouldn’t admit. To either him or Sigrit.

“Of course,” whe winked, but without the playfulness of someone who didn’t care about the consequences. Willing to admit it or not, there were stakes involved. Sigrit leaving would crush her. It would crush Alexander too, although he had slightly different intentions toward her.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Mita said, shaking Sigrit awake. 

“Wha- Mita? It’s so early! Let me sleep!”

“You understand then, how I felt last night, yes?” Alexander teased her, rummaging through his closet for something for her to wear. He found a pair of gold pants that probably weren’t his, and an old dress shirt. He tossed them onto the bed, assuming that, while a nightgown may be acceptable at four am, Sigrit probably would not want to be seen like that in sunlight.

“Alexander, I am so sorry. I had a bad dream, and I worried that I had made a mistake telling Lars to leave me.”

“Do not think of it,” Alexander shrugged. “What’s done is done. We can only go forwards in time.”

“How wise of you,” Mita mocked.

“Just get into the bathroom so Sigrit can put some pants on,” Alexander said, steering her to the bathroom, and closing the door behind them.

“I must say, I was surprised to see her here,” Mita said, laughing lightly. “I did not think it was not in your character.”

“You know very well that it isn’t in my character,” Alexander growled playfully, swatting his friend’s shoulder in protest. “When are you going to tell her?”

“Tell her what?” Mita looked at him in confusion.

“That you are in love with her, my dear,” Alexander said, rolling his eyes.

“I’m not-”

“Save it for someone who will believe you,” he laughed. “I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

Before Mita had a chance to reply, the door was flung open, by an impatient Sigrit. “What’s taking so long? If I didn’t know you better, I would think you had snuck off to have sex.”

All three of them had a good laugh at that thought, while simultaneously filing it under ‘Thoughts to Never Have Again’.

“The rehearsal starts in an hour, and I still have to find something to wear,” Sigrit interrupted, grabbing Mita’s hand and dragging them all out of the bathroom.

“But you have something to wear,” Alexander protested, as she dragged them across the room, towards the door.

“I would like something that doesn’t scream ‘I slept with Alexander Lemtov last night’, if you don’t mind.”

Alexander, and Mita, silently agreed.

***

Backstage, there was chaos. Someone had lost a costume, someone else was having a nervous breakdown, and Alexander Lemtov had just walked in. So you can imagine how hard it would be to focus.

“Five six seven eight! And step and turn and bounce bounce bounce, throw!”

“Do I really need to learn all of this?” Sigrit asked, mildly winded. “The show starts in an hour, and I really can’t dance.”

“Hmm, I’ll see,” the choreographer said, looking across the rehearsal stage. “Jenni, Frida, would you be able to alter your steps in time?” The two dancers nodded, but Sigrit was still looking at them anxiously. 

“Don’t worry,” Frida said briefly. “We’ll stay out of your way. Just stay on your mark!”

Sigrit agreed, thanking both dancers for their help. Then it was just a couple quick touches to her makeup, a brand new dress to slip into, and she was ready. Well, as ready as she would ever be.

She noticed a massive crowd making its way toward her, which undoubtedly meant that Alexander wanted to say hi. Luckily his entourage quickly realized that they were not wanted, as evidenced by Alexander’s exasperated eye roll directed at all of them. They faded into the crowd, leaving Sigrit alone with Alexander.

“Good, you are ready. You are going to win their hearts tonight.”

“They say you’re going to win,” Sigrit replied, draping an arm around her friend’s shoulder in imitation of the various girls in his entourage.

“Bah, they say many stupid things,” he brushed her off. “They also say I have had sex with every girl in Russia. What they say means nothing.”

“I hope you do win,” Sigrit insisted. “I don’t really have a chance.”

“It does not matter if you win,” Alexander said, sweeping her into his arms, causing her to shriek with surprise. “They will see that you are a star, and they will remember you in their hearts forever. Come.”

Largely unable to refute his request, Sigrit allowed Alexander to carry her across the large room, earning them both some confused (and jealous) stares. He set her down beside a very confused Mita, who was carefully touching up her eyeliner.

“Alexander, what’s all this about?” she asked, gesturing widely into the immediate past.

He simply shrugged and said, “you refused to go speak to her, so I brought her here to speak with you.”

“Alexander, my objection was not with walking- whatever,” she sighed. Sigrit was quickly learning that dealing with Alexander on a daily basis was both a pleasure and a pain. “Isn’t Kevin around here somewhere? He’s been wanting to get with you since day one.”

“But Mita my dear, there is only an hour until the competition.”

“I know you can make good use of it,” she said, mildly exasperated, but smirking. “Now go.”

Alexander sauntered off to who knows where, and Mita turned her attention towards Sigrit, who was still adjusting her robes from Alexander’s somewhat abrupt form of transportation.

“I’m sorry,” Sigrit blushed. “If you don’t want to talk to me, I can leave.”

“No, no,” Mita sighed. “As much as he is a pain, Alexander is right. I need to tell you something.”

Sigrit’s eyes were huge, as she stared at Mita. What was the right thing to be feeling right now? Was it fear? Hope? If anyone knew, it wasn’t her. But when she looked into Mita’s eyes, she guessed exactly what she meant to say. What she was struggling to say. 

But Sigrit finally knew her answer. Truth be told, she had known her answer since the moment they had met, only she hadn’t been ready to admit it to herself then. But that was then, and this is now. If Mita wouldn’t ask, then Sigrit would answer.

Sigrit took Mita's hand into her own, holding it close to her chest. “Yes.”

Mita hesitated, carefully moving her hands out of Sigrit’s grip to wrap them around her waist, pulling her closer. Sigrit reciprocated. She met Sigrit’s eyes once more.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't really what I set out to write, but I think it works nicely to set up some future events. The Eurovision winner will be found out in the next chapter! Stay tuned!


	4. There is a Time and Place for These Things Called Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long-ish wait. Tbh I'm kinda running out of ideas and motivation for this, but I will at least try to give it a decent ending. There should still be a few more chapters to come, don't worry. Thank you to everyone who has been reading and commenting, it was just the quarantine pick-me-up I needed. But you clearly aren't reading this for me, so I will shut up now.

In terms of first dates, very few make a good impression. But somehow, against all odds, Sigrit had had a great time. Maybe it was just being with the right person. Or maybe dating women was just a step above the rest.

Mita and Sigrit certainly had a lot to talk about. They traded stories of their home countries, and bonded over the joy that is ABBA. Sigrit was surprised to hear that Mita had also been inspired by the iconic Swedish group. But then again, who is more lovable than ABBA?

They also bonded over the absolute blessing that had been losing to Alexander Lemtov. It had been a truly magical experience for everyone involved. Sigrit had almost thanked him for absolutely destroying her chances of victory. And they both agreed that, although neither of them would ever date him, there was absolutely nothing wrong with staring for an excessive amount of time.

“It is our duty to strip onstage for the enjoyment of our friends,” Mita laughed, sipping her cocktail. They had gone out for drinks to celebrate their crushing defeat, and to commiserate together.

“A toast to Alexander’s health,” Sigrit shouted, raising her glass “May his body and soul be perfect forever!”

“Here here!” the crowd responded, much to Sigrit’s surprise. 

“A lovely thought,” a voice drawled from the doorway, “but impossible, no?”

Alexander Lemtov entered the room with a swagger reminiscent of a king conquering a nation. And indeed, if Sigrit had been the leader of her country, she likely would have handed it over then and there. Luckily for Iceland, she wasn’t.

The merriment in the pub continued, the energy that Alexander carried with him nearly sending the crowd into a frenzy. People were taking pictures from all angles, everyone demanding an autograph. He of course indulged them all gracefully, further charming the crowd.

Eventually the energy returned to a normal level, and he found a moment to slip away. Sigrit and Mita watched him go, sporting matching grins. They may be here on a date together, but neither was afraid to admit that the Russian was extremely attractive.

“He deserves this,” Mita smiled, watching him slip out. “I am glad that he is happy.”

***

Alexander slipped away from the crowd of enthusiastic fans. That was enough for one day. Sure, hundreds of people proclaiming their love for you and asking for your autograph was fun, but there were also other ways to have fun.

“Fancy meeting you here,” a lithe figure spoke, emerging from the shadows, resting a light hand on Alexander’s shoulder.

“Kevin Swain, the famous Artistic Director,” Alexander smiled, spinning the man by the shoulders to face him. “I must congratulate you, my dear. Iceland’s little show was quite excellent.”

“I should be congratulating you,” Kevin whispered, pushing Alexander back against the brick wall, his breath heavy against his neck. “You did win, after all.”

“But of course, how could they resist all this,” Alexander smirked, watching Kevin look him up and down.

Kevin smirked back, “but only I get to have you.”

“Don’t be selfish, my dear,” Alexander scolded him lightly. “Let others have a chance to play.”

Kevin hummed in amusement. “But nobody else is as good as me, are they?”

Well, Alexander couldn’t argue with that. Forgetting his surroundings for a second, he chose to focus on the dark haired man currently pinning him to a wall. Kevin pressed a line of kisses down his jaw, moving his hands up to play with his hair, a move he’d made many times before. But never in public.

“Kevin,” Alexander whispered, “not here. Someone could see.”

“What’s life without a little risk?” Kevin shrugged, rubbing his thumb over Alexander’s cheek. Alexander hesitated, but immediately melted, when Kevin connected their lips. They moved together, both of them wanting to take it further, but neither with enough patience to walk the half-block to Alexander’s room.

Alexander was about to cave and suggest it, when Kevin was roughly shoved off him, and a woman planted her lips directly on his. He barely had enough time to register that Sigrit was kissing him, then the flash of a camera went off, lighting up the bright street. Someone had taken a picture.

***

Sigrit and Mita made their exit arm in arm, laughing hysterically at something one of them had said. Neither of them could really remember who had actually said the phrase to set them off. They were both more than a few drinks in, and those kinds of technicalities just didn’t really matter anymore.

Deciding to change the pace a little bit, Mita reached over to grab Sigrit’s other hand, pulling them together, so that they stood chest to chest. Mita reached up and brushed a strand of hair from Sigrit’s face.

“Your eyes look so pretty in the moonlight,” she giggled, causing Sigrit to blush heavily. She leaned in to kiss her, their lips meeting softly. Sigrit leaned into her touch, running a hand up her back to rest on her neck. They broke apart moments later, smiling contentedly.

Suddenly, Sigrit’s Spidey-sense tingled. Or maybe it was the elves, warning her that her friend was about to be in trouble. A quick glance across the road revealed the danger. Alexander and Kevin were engaged in a rather passionate makeout session, which in itself was not the problem. The real threat was the man standing a few meters away, phone out, looking for the right angle to snap a photo of the couple. The two men were oblivious.

Sigrit didn’t have time to apologize to Mita, she barely even checked for traffic. She was across the street in an instant, shoving Kevin away and inserting herself, just as the photo was taken. Sigrit watched out of the corner of her eye as the man, frustrated, pocketed his phone and stormed off. She didn’t move until she was sure he was gone.

Alexander pushed her away, confused. “Sigrit, I do not understand your meaning,” he looked at her in bewilderment.

“Sorry Alexander, Kevin,” Sigrit apologized to the two of them. “But I didn’t think you’d appreciate having your picture all over the news tomorrow.”

“We need to get out of here,” Mita chimed in, having crossed the road in pursuit of her crazed date. “That was the leader of the anti-gay movement in Russia.”

“How do you know?” Sigrit asked, voice a pitch higher than regular. She had just thought he was a creep with questionable morals. She hadn’t realized how high the stakes actually were. If that picture had been taken… She shuddered to think about it.

“I saw him on the news the other day,” Mita shrugged. “It’s not a face you forget.”

“He must have come to expose me,” Alexander said, trying to laugh it off. But the slight quiver in his voice revealed the truth. He was terrified.

“Alexander, you live near here, yes?” Mita asked, grabbing his hand.

“Big house, just up the road. You can’t miss it,” he shrugged, but allowed Mita to all but drag him up the street. The four of them stepped through the front door, and immediately slammed it shut behind them.

“Welcome to my palace,” Alexander said, leading them away from the main entrance. A house tour would serve as a welcome distraction from all the messiness outside. “Kitchen is very big, but is never used. This house only for parties.”

The trip through the kitchen, lounge, bedrooms, bathrooms and art galleries (plural, it seemed), was incredibly effective in de-stressing the four. It’s hard to be stressed when you have a friend to tease for the absolutely ridiculous number of ‘greek’ statues present throughout the house. Alexander, despite his friends’ constant teasing, hadn’t even blushed once. He truly had no shame, nor should he.

Though, Sigrit supposed, watching him posing next to an extraordinarily well-endowed statue that resembled him just a tad too much, he could do with a bit of modesty. Not that she was complaining to see her friends smiling again.

“I cannot believe anyone could think you were straight after seeing this place,” Kevin laughed, draping a languid arm over Alexander’s shoulder.

“I should hope not,” Alexander replied, leaning over to pull Kevin into a deep kiss. They continued like this for several seconds, seemingly unaware of the other couple in the room.

Sigrit and Mita shared an exasperated look, rolling their eyes. Boys will be boys, I guess, Sigrit thought to herself in amusement. But honestly, this had gone on for long enough.

“Do you need help finding a room, or are you capable of getting there yourself?” Sigrit asked mildly, mentally laughing at the two looks the boys gave her. Kevin had the decency to look embarrassed. Alexander just looked indignant.

“This is my house, I am thinking I know the way better than you,” Alexander replied, returning his focus to his previous task, which appeared to be convincing Kevin to sleep with him right there on the floor. 

Knowing full well the extent of Alexander’s persuasive powers, Sigrit and Mita quickly evacuated the room, in case of the possibility that he actually succeeded. His odds were looking good, and they didn’t want to stick around to bear witness.

Once they safely had three doors between them, finding themselves in what appeared to be a lavishly decorated guest bedroom, Mita made her own moves. She pushed Sigrit back onto the bed, landing on top of her. They locked lips, eyes closed, as Sigrit ran her hands messily through Mita’s hair.

“I’m not going to sleep with you-” Mita said, pulling Sigrit’s shirt off.

“I hope you’re saying that for yourself,” Sigrit moaned, tugging at Mita’s shirt, demanding reciprocation. “And not because of an assumption you’ve made about me.”

“You mean-?”

“I have never been with a woman,” Sigrit admitted, “but I couldn’t think of a better time to start.”

“I am glad you said that,” Mita smiled, “because I couldn’t agree more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, Alexander won. I think I just loved him too much to give it to anyone else. And he definitely deserved it. If you have any suggestions for future ideas, please mention them in the comments. I have some ideas of my own, but I'd love to hear yours too!


	5. Welcome to the Danger Zone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here we go!!! last chapter.

Alexander Lemtov was in deep shit.

The competition was over. He had won, of course. Nobody had doubted that for a second. But the sweet taste of victory was overpowered by an intense sense of dread. He should’ve been out celebrating with his friends, and the rest of the Eurovision finalists. Instead he was here, in his room, staring at his phone, trying to figure out how to get a picture permanently deleted from the internet.

It had all started an hour before the Eurovision final. He had taken Mita’s suggestion, although little did Mita know that he and Kevin had been seeing each other for quite some time. Either way, it made no difference. Someone had seen them. Someone had taken a picture. And someone had decided to ruin his life.

The picture itself wasn’t so bad. They were both fully clothed, they weren’t even kissing. But an arm around the waist, two men standing just too close together, the fact that this was Eurovision? All that was enough to prompt the headline: Eurovision Winner, Alexander Lemtov of Russia, Caught Sleeping with Icelandic Artistic Director?

By now, the article had thousands of shares, and the number was only growing. Yeah. No doubt about it. He was fucked. 

He glanced at Kevin, still peacefully asleep beside him. Would this ruin him too? No, he reasoned, Kevin was out, had been for years. For once, Alexander only had himself to worry about. Too many times, he had seen relatively unknown guys get their lives blown up and destroyed when they inevitably got caught in some compromising position or another.

Well, not this time. But it sure didn’t make it easier for him.

To make things worse, the phone in his hands started to ring. It was the president of the Russian Eurovision committee. Wonderful. Alexander swallowed heavily and picked up the phone.

“Hello? This is Alexander Lemtov.”

“Congratulations Mr Lemtov!” the president exclaimed. “We are all thrilled to hear of your victory.”

He couldn’t possibly have seen the article yet. But that would soon change. And with it, his attitude.

“Thank you very much,” Alexander replied with an easy polite phrase. No need to make things complicated now.

“I expect you will be wanting to return to Russia soon to celebrate with your people,” he continued. He was wrong there, Alexander thought. But he didn’t have a good enough reason to disagree. Of course they would expect that. It was only natural for a winner to want to continue their fame in their home country. Only that, right now, he would prefer it if the whole world forgot about his existence.

“I look forward to it,” he replied, barely managing to maintain the casual facade he had established for himself.

“I will look into organizing a celebratory gathering for when you return home. Until then, I wish you the best of luck, and congratulations once again.”

They said their goodbyes, and hung up. Alexander wanted to curl up under his sheets and hide. But that wouldn’t solve anything. What he needed was a solution. Luckily for him, that solution happened to knock on the door right then. She just didn’t know it yet.

“Sigrit, come in.”

“Alexander, where have- What’s wrong?” she asked, seeing him lying helplessly on the bed, makeup smudged. Wordlessly, he handed her the phone.

“Oh shit,” she said, glancing at the headline. “Can we get this deleted?”

“We can’t. And even if we could, thousands of people have seen it. It’s too late.”

“What’s wrong?” Mita asked, storming into the room, pausing to give Sigrit a quick kiss on the cheek. Neither paid any attention to a scantily clad Kevin slowly waking up from all the commotion. “Why has Alexander been crying?”

Sigrit handed her the phone. She paled. Then she glanced back up at Alexander, who nodded in defeat.

“Did you at least have a good time?” she asked. But her desperate attempt to lighten the situation fell flat. Alexander only grimaced.

“Yes,” he shrugged. “But I doubt my happiness will continue.” The three of them sat in silent thought for a moment.

“Deny it!” Sigrit exclaimed, leaping from her chair. “Just say it isn’t true.”

“But Sigrit, it is true. I cannot lie-”

“Cannot lie, my ass!” Mita exclaimed. “I would rather you lie to God himself than see you wind up imprisoned. Or worse!”

“What do I do?” Alexander sighed. It was killing Sigrit to see him lose the usually flamboyant part of himself that she loved to see.

“Well, for starters, it would help if you were seen with a woman,” Sigrit suggested.

“Ugh. Please no,” Alexander groaned.

“Come on, we aren’t that bad,” Sigrit protested, planting her hands on her hips. “Here is the plan. Tonight at the party, I will be your date. You will kiss me at least twice-”

“But-”

“No argument. And you will tell everyone who even looks at you that we are dating. Sorry Mita.”

“I understand, love,” Mita smiled at her. Their love for Alexander almost -almost, mind you- surpassed their love for each other. “And Alexander, if you don’t do all this, I will find you, and I will shove my tongue down your throat.”

Alexander looked at her, silently begging her to reconsider this ultimatum. She glared back.

“I’m not asking you to be straight, Alex,” Sigrit sighed, pulling him off the bed. “I’m asking you to live. Now, you just won Eurovision. Act like it.”

***

Finally, the night arrived. And with it, the dreaded party. This party was being thrown in honour of this year’s eurovision winner, so there was no doubt that there would be reporters and cameras everywhere. Whether that was a blessing or a curse was up to individual discretion. But it meant their plan would be effective.

Of course, the fun started as soon as they walked in the front door. Alexander and Sigrit arm in arm. And by fun, I mean the rumours started flying.

“Mr Lemtov, congratulations on finally coming out,” one well meaning, but obnoxiously loud man shouted, within seconds of them stepping through the doors. Alexander gritted his teeth. This was going to be a long night.

“Thank you, but I do not accept. I am not gay.”

“Well of course. And your lovely date, Ms Sigrit-” they walked away. But it was far from over.

As the night progressed, the questions grew from polite, to speculative, to rude. And quickly sliding to the lewd end of the spectrum. Something needed to be done before fifty drunk reporters started making graphic jokes about Alexander’s sex life.

“Alex!” one guy shouted, climbing to stand up on the table, almost falling off in the process. A disgruntled Kevin was lifted up to stand beside him. “Is it true that you fucked Kevin here right before your big Eurovision win?”

“Just ignore them,” Sigrit whispered for the thousandth time that night. “Wait, I have an idea. Follow my lead.”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him up onto their own table. Step one, act drunk. Done. Step two, sound drunk. “First of all,” she slurred, “fuck you! Second of all-” 

Without hesitating to think, she pulled Alexander in for a kiss, right on top of the table. It only lasted for a couple seconds, and both had the same thought: Let’s never do that again. But of course, neither said it out loud.

It was enough for the reporters though.

“Wooooo!”

“Plot twist!”

“When’s the wedding?”

“Tomorrow! Fuck you!” Sigrit shouted almost gleefully, pulling Alexander down off the table and quickly out the front door. Without stopping to catch a breath, they ran for three more blocks, then caught a taxi back to Sigrit’s hotel room. A quick to Mita let them know where they were at.

“Now that’s an afterparty!” Sigrit whooped, high-fiving Alexander enthusiastically. Some may even say overenthusiastically. Alexander wouldn’t be one of them.

“They will not soon forget Alexander Lemtov, lover of ladies,” Alexander giggled, collapsing onto the bed.

“And lions!”

“Sigrit, you do me no favours with your implications,” Alexander teased, pushing her away from the bed.

There was a loud knocking at the door. Sigrit had barely touched the doorknob when it burst open.

“You didn’t invite me to the wedding!” Mita screeched, tackling Sigrit onto the bed. Sigrit connected their lips, using the momentum to roll on top of Mita.

“You know I wouldn’t do anything without you. Of course you would be invited to Alexander and I’s wedding.”

Across the bed, Alexander groaned. “My dear, was it needed to say that we are getting married?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Sigrit asked, seating herself in Mita’s lap.

“Well...”

“Admit it.”

“I-”

“Say it.”

“Fine, yes. You are a very smart and beautiful person. Your plan worked very well.”

“Ha!” 

“Yes dear, you’re very smart,” Mita sighed, “but I think you need to sleep off the alcohol.”

“Very well, I will leave you-” Alexander tried to stand up, only to be tackled by Mita.

“Oh no sir, you are going to spend the night with your bride to be.”

Alexander gave her a look. 

“I’m not saying you have to sleep with her,” Mita shrugged. “Just, you know, sleep with her.”

“I do not understand English,” Alexander sighed. “I wish I had picked a better second language. This would never happen in Russian.”

“Just stay the night,” Mita said, snuggling in next to Sigrit. “We promise not to have sex while you’re in the room.”

“Very kind.” Alexander rolled his eyes, but lay down in Lars’ unoccupied bed.

“And tomorrow, you are coming back to Greece with me. Fuck the Russians.”

Alexander gave a snort. “I do not disagree.”

“Except for you of course,” Mita winked. “I’d never fuck you.”

Alexander rolled over to face the wall. “I’m honoured. Now go to sleep.”

It was not hard to comply. The three were asleep within minutes, and dreaming about their future in Greece.

And because I’m a biased narrator with control over the story, they all lived happily ever after. And never had any problems ever again.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this ending isn't really what I planned to happen. I had other ideas I wanted to expand on, but I really don't have the motivation to write them these days. Sorry folks. I hope you enjoyed what I've written.  
> Signing off

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks a bunch to everyone who took the time to read this. Drop a comment if you have thoughts, suggestions, or just want to talk.


End file.
